


Homecoming

by The_Oather



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Destiny 2 - Fandom
Genre: #War, #lovestory, #redwar, #shortstory, F/M, Red Legion (Destiny), The Last City (Destiny), The Red War (Destiny)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Oather/pseuds/The_Oather
Summary: The most underrated historical event simply coined "The Red War" is one of the Last City's most recent encounter with cold tragedy. The first chapter to this assault is known as Homecoming, though I use the name with a double meaning. This is not the first part to a series, nor is it a chapter; It is a glimpse into the lives of two ordinary individuals.-Et sic incipit...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Homecoming

Darkness draped a heavy cloak over all that surrounded her, stifling a surprise that he claimed awaited her. The patter of rain outside was the only source of sound to be found. She shut her eyes as hard as she could before opening them again. No, she couldn't see a difference. She couldn’t see anything. Flashing bolts of lightning briefly illuminated the contents of the room, though it flashed too quickly for her to make out her muffled environment.

And then it happened.

A single musical note punctured the silence, followed by the illumination of a yellow bulb. She wanted to walk toward it, to feel the comforts of its light, but he had warned her not to.

Another note and another bulb, followed by the same pattern, increasing in tempo until it reached a discernible melody. The whole room was now lit in a warm light. 

With a twirl, she admired the strands of bulbs weaved around the compact room. Her aesthetic observations of the light strands halted as they lightly fell upon a man, standing with a hand behind his back and the other resting on an ancient pianola. She raised her arms, gesturing to the lights woven around the room. 

“Did you scavenge these from last year's Dawning?” she asked the man, who responded with the slightest of smiles. 

“No,” he answered with a gentle shake of his head. “They’re Christmas lights. I attained these in the darkest corners of the oldest antique shop in the most hidden district to be found in all the City.” She returned the smile as he held out an open hand. The golden ring laced around her finger clinked with his as their hands met. A rare symbol of true love, more difficult to find than Christmas lights. 

The lulled music was followed by a flash of thunder signalling the pianola to transition into a sweeping tune. They swayed to and fro, dancing together. A ballroom couldn’t have achieved in comparison to the thoughtfulness he thought of surprising her with. She couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the City’s anniversary, feeling pity for those who weren’t experiencing what she had.

She suddenly frowned in consideration to the pianola. 

“The music—” 

“ _Her Eyes the Stars._ Very old, I know, but still beautiful.” He paused in his motions. “At least I hope so.” 

“No, I—” she stopped talking as she noticed the dejection in his eyes. _How sweet,_ she thought to herself. She reassured his concern with a renewed smile. “Yes, It’s lovely.” he seemed to breath an inward sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if it would distract those who actually do their job.” He tried to return to their dance, but she held him back with a maintained grip on his shoulder. “I’m serious,” she whispered. “How many people can hear the music, or us for that matter?” She flinched in surprise as he shouted at the top of his voice.

“NOBODY IN THE WHOLE DISTRICT! THAT'S—” she interrupted him with a well placed slap to the face. At first, he appeared shocked to the way she reacted before speaking with an idiotic grin. “Oh,” he placed a hand on his now red cheek, “she loves me.” She would've slapped him again had he not moved out of range to pick up a geometrical piece of machine. 

“Now that looks like it was found in the trash.” she pointed out. He laughed at her accusation until he realized it was true. 

“Well,” he tossed it from one hand to the other, “that doesn’t mean it’s totally wasted.” 

“And what, pray tell, is _it?_ ” He shrugged.

“Trash.” He chucked it behind the Pianola, almost denting its priceless frame. She placed a finger on the side of her temple, blushing at how childish he could be. He held up a hand to her displayed amusement. “But this,” he reached into a pocket under his coat, producing a hexagonal remote in between two fingers. “This is something I use to keep a one-way-anti-bug-shielding-system active over this room.” She tilted her head, processing the string of words he uttered so quickly.

A new music roll clicked into place, renewing its melody with another tune.

“And that’s supposed to keep anyone from hearing us?” he nodded with a proud grin.

“No one outside the shield can hear us. And we can only hear a couple paces outside the shield.” 

“Oh.” she held up one index finger, gesturing for him to approach. She nuzzled close to his shoulder beginning to speak in his left ear. “IS THIS WHAT YOU DO INSTEAD OF YOUR JOB!” He practically launched himself into a wall at the sudden scream of her vocals. 

“Your more important than riches to me,” was the simple cliché he desperately defended himself with. 

“Yes, well,” she straightened out the folds of her dress, “I guess I am.” She was a sucker for clichés and he knew it; she knew that he knew it. 

Casually strolling to the dripping glass of the only window, she pointed to it. “If I open this..?” she questioned, waiting for him to finish her sentence. 

He used his knees as support to stand up, brushing off his trousers after he did so. Taking his place beside her, he replied: 

“The discord of wind and rain will invade this room, but the sound here shall never escape.”

“Good.” she unexpectedly unhatched the window’s locking mechanism, heaving open the glass pane. She turned to face him as a legion of raindrops assaulted their clothes.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she intertwined the other hand with his. An icy wind dashed against their hair. “Shall we?” 

A clap of thunder punctuated their resolve, designating the start of a dance. Slowly, their rhythmic movement built into a spectacular show for two. Their elegant strides matched harmoniously as they waltzed together in perfect unison: To the music and to each other. 

No words were needed to speak for the deep feelings they expressed behind their eyes. All that was darkness, all that was evil, couldn't last a second in the pure innocence begotten by the love they shared for each other. The moment was perfect… until it wasn’t. 

Concern abruptly tore away the soft glow from her eyes. 

“Did you hear that?” she asked him, clinging close to his jacket out of an impulse. He tried to show her that all was well by resuming their dance steps, but she clung too close to his jacket.

“It’s just the thunder.” She didn’t move as another dull thud made its presence known. “Come now,” he soothed. “I know thunder doesn’t scare you. You're always the one who has to calm me down.” He tried to help with a laugh, but it faded quickly when he realized she wouldn’t budge.

“If it’s just thunder,” she asked, “how can we hear it so well?” He was about to answer when he realized the validity of her words, causing his mouth to hang open. 

“Must be a malfunction in the device,” he finally explained. “After all, I did—” The brightest flash of orange light illuminated their room for only the briefest of moments. One would have not been able to see it, had one decided to blink. But they saw it: twice now, only brighter. Lightning never assumed the fiery hue of light that shone in their eyes. She turned to face him while he turned to look out the window; He saw smoke. 

Another flash blinded their eyes, this one closer than the first two. He gulped at what could possibly cause such sporadic bursts of light. 

“I need to see what—” She cut him off by pulling him into a tight embrace, burying her face into his coat. 

“Take me with you,” she whispered into his seams. He reluctantly used what strength he had to pry her off.

“Stay here,” he warned, “I’m going to see what’s wrong.” She grasped the ends of his coat loosely, allowing it to slip out of her fingers like the sands of time. He approached the door and opened it to have the blaring noise of emergency sirens jar his hearing. He took a step outside before her voice froze his steps. 

“I love you.” He couldn’t bring himself to face her, knowing that if he did he wouldn’t be able to leave her where it was safe. 

“I lo—” 

“Don’t you dare die.” His head slunk in the doorway for a moment. When he gathered enough resolve to speak he returned with a simple:

“I won’t.” 

Stepping outside, he silently shut the door behind him, knowing that everything he desired was on the other side. The lock clicked under his fingertips.

Sprinting down various corridors, ajar doors, and flights of stairs, he reached the annex of the tower, peering over a rail. He couldn’t feel the pain of the angled rail biting into his skin as his grip tightened. He felt his heart drop in response to the sight that met him; legions of missiles were being fired from a formidable armada of warships. They were locked onto the City. 

His cries couldn’t be heard over the screeching alarms as he ran back, trying to reach the secret room in time. That was when the first barrage of many struck. The force of the detonation tossed him against a wall, jolting his head into the hard material behind him. Another explosion rocked the foundations of the Last City. 

Then another. 

And another… 

Another…

Anoth—

All that was shadow consumed his vision as he lost consciousness 

All that was evil consumed everything as he lost his love.   
  


Someone was speaking to him. Their voice rang throughout his ears with a suppressed vibration. White lights danced around the corners of his eyes while a high pitched ringing tore away at his hearing. 

Someone was carrying him now, or, at least, trying to. They yanked on his arm, but he didn’t budge. After a while he felt the patter of their steps fade away as they abandoned him. 

_Good._

He had seen what happened to the secret room, saw the devastation that filled it to the brim, saw the death that it so arrogantly boasted. That was when another volley pummeled the tower, sending him into his present state of hopelessness. 

His grieving was interrupted by a secure grip tightening around his shoulder. The pitched ring in his ears somewhat lessened at its touch. His heart rose at the hope to who the grip could belong to, allowing him to possess the strength to stand. The grip maintained a steady hold on his shaking form whilst he advanced in height. He turned to observe his sturdy assistance; he almost collapsed again as hopelessness flooded his soul, attempting to drown him. It wasn’t her, just a guardian: a Titan. He could hear its sonorous voice address him.

“We have to get out of here. The evac shuttle is waiting for _everyone_.” He shook his head with a faint smile.

“Well then,” he responded, “they’ll have to wait forever. Some are never going to come. Some are already gone.” An armored hand was laid on his shoulder with a heavy weight. 

“I know you had a loss today.” He abruptly laughed at the guardian's words. The guardian continued, undaunted. “Everyone had a lost today. That’s why you need to take a stand now, to fight for what was lost! Let it drive you, strengthen you. It is only a matter of will!” He continued to shake his head, painfully chuckling without humor.

“Loss? I tell you now guardian, the only loss you experience are your precious weapons.” He began to sink lower. “Let me die guardian, you wouldn’t understand.”

“No!” the guardian grabbed him by both shoulders, raising him to a limp stance. “Every citizen's death is a loss to me. A defeat! I won’t have another die while I stand watch. Not even one! You lack purpose, let me help you find purpose: To give _me_ purpose!”

“I—” His words were interrupted by the guardian forcefully jutting its neck under his arm, pulling him down the corridors. Its strength amazed him. 

“Give me reason to be called a guardian.” They descended down a flight of stairs, coming out to a courtyard strewn with rumble. He could see the City in the distance; It was smothered with decimation. He started to support his own weight as they went along. The guardian's voice strove to reassure him, but only increased his anxiety. “The rest of the civilians are gathered just around here. Once we meet with them, we’ll all rendezvous at the evac shuttles. We just need to work together and we’ll survive this, just relax.” They shuffled through the ends of a hallway. It opened out to an assortment of troop-carriers surrounded by a pack of Redjacks and battered civilians. 

Both him and the guardian froze in their tracks; someone had screamed. The guardian almost dropped him as it reeled towards the source of the cry. “Wait here,” instructed the guardian, setting him on the icy surface of the chamber. The fires of discord refrained from warming the floor’s cold demeanor. 

“Wait,” he seized onto the fur of the guardian’s pauldron, jerking it closer. “Don’t leave me.”

“You’re safe here, just—”

“No. Take me with you.” he sternly gazed into the visor of the guardian, trying to reach whatever emotion lay hidden behind it. “Take me... Take me with you. Let me discover purpose.” The guardian stood up, breaking out of his grip. He pulled the Titan back to his level once more, wrenching its necklace. “Let me have _vengeance_ ,” he hissed. The guardian used restrained strength to free its necklace from him.

“I shall not let you die.” He stood up without aid, straightening his posture. 

“Then give me a weapon.” The guardian remained motionless. “Give _me_ purpose.” He looked past the guardian before darting past it, only to have the guardian yank him back by the collar. 

“We move as one,” said the guardian. “Here, you’re going to need this.” The guardian unhooked an assault rifle from the weapon’s rack, holding it out for him to take. He snatched the firearm from its hands feeling the motivation in every ounce it held. The clicks of his operating rod snapped through the air, as his determination rose with the City’s smoke. 

How many have died by now? He couldn’t tell. It was if their numbers were infinite. 

Rounding a wall of rubble, they managed to flank a platoon of cabal legionaries. The legionary troops never heard them coming until it was too late. He and the guardian pummeled their armored hide with bullets until nothing remained to voice a complaint.

They had already found the source of the scream: a young child crying for help in a crumpled building. Apparently it ran back to retrieve something. 

_What an idiot._

The child seemed familiar enough with the guardian, and was only too happy to be carried in its supportive arms. Against his strong warnings, the guardian saw fit to arm the child with a hand canon. 

Getting back to the rest of the civilians was a more difficult task than before; scores of Red Legion troops were flooding into the Last City. Thankfully, the guardian’s might could have been counted as two armies. Without it, he would have died long ago from being outgunned, outmatched, and outnumbered. 

Rounds erupted from the guardian’s barrel as it pushed back the onrushing enemy. He tried to aid in the fray, but only managed to land a couple hits before the guardian finished them off for him. 

The guardian pointed past the legionaries they had slain to a gate. 

“Just beyond that,” he stated. “And we’ll be in the clear. Expect resistance.” The guardian took a step to the gate, when a round ricocheted off its armor. With a sharp pivot, they witnessed a volley of ripper pods cascade behind them, unleashing chaos. “Quick! Take the young one to the evac-shuttles, hurry!” Rounds continued to pelt the guardian’s armor as it handed the squirming child to him. He held it restrainedly. “GO NOW! I’ll hold the—” whatever the guardian was going to say was cut off by the deadly roar of a hand cannon. 

Surprised by the sudden demise of the guardian, whose ghost reappeared in an effort to resurrect it, he looked down to the child he held. The kid’s gun was smoking. 

He wrested the weapon from her hands. Kneeling behind the gate, to ward off the storm of fire that rocketed at them, he roughly set her down. 

“What’s wrong with you!” he yelled over the din of warfare. “Is it really so hard for you to think!” the child sniffed as tears welled up in its eyes.

“It was an accident,” she sobbed. 

“An accident! You’re putting everyone’s life in danger! I thought you were trapped! But no, you came running back to fetch some petty item! Is that really worth more than your life, or the life of others!” The child only continued to weep, responding by throwing some kind of trinket at his feet. “Is this what you ran back for!”

“Yes!” the kid shouted back, tear stains streaking down its dirty face. “It’s hers!” Shocked at the words of the child, he reached down to pick up a silver necklace. Unclasping the delicate lid, he opened the locket to discern the features of a woman. He held it up to the child’s face. 

“Is this your mother?” It nodded. “Did she die today?” the child shook its head. “She’s still alive?” the child nodded again. He looked back to the picture in the locket. Thinking back to it, he could have swore he saw someone like her back at the vessels of hawk crafts. 

A hulking form leaped behind him, vibrating the ground with its force. He spun around, the hand cannon gripped in his fingers, pulling the trigger to kill whatever brute was behind him. None of his shots landed as his hand cannon was slapped out of his fingers.

“I’ll not be caught unawares a second time.” said the guardian, swiping the hand cannon up from the ground. “Didn’t break any bones in your hand, did I?”

“I don’t—”

“Wonderful!” the guardian lumbered over to the weeping child. “And you, young one! What an impressive shot! Few, if any, ever manage to score a hit on this skull!” The guardian laughed in a frenzied delight, ruffling the kid’s hair. “I always knew you could handle one, but somebody doubted you.” The air was knocked out of him as the guardian smacked him across the back. “Sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner, but there were hundreds of cabal on my fist’s list.”

The guardian pointed to the avenue beyond the gate. “We’ll have to move quickly. Cabal will be swarming us front and back.” The guardian unsheathed a blazing sword from its back. “Warriors, it’s time for battle! Cover our flank will you? This is no place for mercy!” With that said, the guardian leapt over the wall, shouting a battle cry as it smote Cabal and Psion troops alike. 

He rotated to face the hostiles rushing from behind: full auto blazing away. They kept coming in numbers too overwhelming to advance and too crowded to retreat. He swapped out magazines as it emptied, feeling the swing of the necklace in his hand. He still held it. Glancing down at it, he remembered _what_ he had, what the child _still_ had, and what he _had_ to have. He knew what he had to do to get it.

Rushing over to the guardian, he held out the necklace for him to take. Embers flew off the guardian’s sword as it arced with a powerful strike into the helm of a Centurion. “What is this?” questioned the guardian as he wrenched the brand out of his prey. 

“It belongs to the kid, she needs to get back to her mother.” 

“That was the plan.”

“I’m going to stay here and fight.” 

“Rage my friend, not revenge. It blinds you.”

“You need to be the one to take her there.”

“I already told—”

“I’m dead weight! I’m no guardian, without me you can get there faster. Let me hold the lines. I could buy you some time.” The guardian took the necklace from him, grasping his hand in a clasp as he did. 

“Why would I do that?” 

He stared up at the guardian then down to the kid in turn. The memory of his love burned in his mind.

“To help me rediscover purpose. Surely you understand that.” He felt the grip of the guardian soften, before tightening again as it accepted the golden trinket. “Let me die in honor.” His hands quivered as he spoke. “Let me come home.” The guardian placed a heavy gauntlet on top of his knuckles.

“Your spirit is unrivaled.” The guardian respectfully placed an arm across its chest in an honoring salute. “We need more like you.”

“I’ll see you again.” The guardian swept the child in its arm as it walked away. 

“No, you won’t. I don’t plan on dying.”

“Neither do I.” The guardian turned to eye him one last time. 

“You’re _alive_ guardian, fight like it!”

Having nothing to lose made him reckless, encouraging him to attack the enemy in close quarters from surprised angles.

He dodged the searing blade of a Gladiator, sliding beneath it to land a powerful hit under its helm with the hand cannon. Stumbling back to a stance, he opened fire on scores of Warbeast with the auto rifle in the other hand. A frag detonator implanted itself in the ground just inches from his toes, causing him to roll into the doors of a shop as the explosion went off. Leaping through a broken window, he landed on top of a Legionary, filling its helmet with his hand cannon’s breath. He jumped off the brute as it collapsed against the cracked streets. 

“Ah!” with a cry of anguish, he felt his ribs. They were probably broken, but so was a good deal of other things, so what did it matter? His automatic briefly came to life as he rounded a corner. Two more legionaries were now dead, but only two. 

Stiffly reloading both weapons, he ducked behind a ruptured pillar as he caught the attention of a Colossus. Peeking over the top, he unleashed bolts of ammunition from both weapons at once. The Colossus was undeterred by the hail of bullets it received, responding to his attacks with a bombardment of homing missiles, pronouncing the epilogue to his life. 

He let the weapons in his hands clatter against the stone as he dropped onto his knees, head bowed in acceptance to his fate. Unceremoniously, they rocketed into his form, bringing rest to what purpose he fought for. All was filled with black as they came into contact with him. 

Darkness draped a heavy cloak over all that surrounded him, snuffing out what little hope he had. Could this really be all that was left for him? 

His downtrodden spirits trembled at the sound of a note. A single note, which lit a single point of light: a star. A sequence of notes and stars spiraled around him, filling the darkness with their felicity. Stars manifested above, below, and all around his person, flickering into existence with every note the melody sung. 

And then he heard it, a sound… a voice. It was _her v_ oice: laughter choked with tears crying out from behind him. Feeling the deceptive rise of hope in his soul, he spun around to see if all he anticipated was true.

He saw her. 

She saw him.

He had come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Most Destiny stories are told through the perspective of a guardian. I have decided to break away from this movement by focusing on the lives of those not infused with raw light.  
> Because of how sudden and comedic the original Destiny 2 campaign can be, I feel that the true tragedy of the Red War is never felt. At worst it's: "Oh no, all my D1 exotics are blown to bits or nerfed... woe unto me..." It's almost impossible to feel pity for those civilians scattered outside of Shaxx's armory. But you never had time to connect, so how could you? Well, I have tried to connect you with two civilians who suffered much, but gained all.


End file.
